


In Spite of all the Danger

by makingitwork



Series: Newtmas Prompt Fills [1]
Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Drabble, Guitar playing Newt, Happy Ending, M/M, One-Shot, Pre-Slash, Shy Newt, lyrics used by McCartney and Harrison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 09:58:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4602465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makingitwork/pseuds/makingitwork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas can't stand his neighbour's relentless guitar playing, but when he goes down to complain...</p>
<p>Well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Spite of all the Danger

**Author's Note:**

> Just Youtube Nowhere Boy In Spite of all the Danger, because Thomas Sangster is...amazing.

The music was making Thomas pace. He didn’t know who lived beneath him, he’d only lived in this block of flats for a week, but the music was killing him. Awful, loud and screeching, and the notes flew up relentlessly into his apartment. It was three am. Who was playing music at three am? He groaned, pacing more agitatedly, wondering whether it was worth going downstairs and raising hell. He didn’t want the first thing he ever said to any of his neighbours to be him complaining, but tomorrow- or today, he thought, glaring at the clock, was a busy day. He was an editor, and there were three separate deadlines all for tomorrow. Another strummed chord and his mind was made up. He marched out of his room, in a ratty blue nightshirt and black joggers, down the dimly lit corridor, down a flight of stairs, and along another corridor. The carpet was soft under his feet, and the music attacked his hears.

_‘In spite of all the heartache, that you may cause me. I’ll do anything for you, anything you want me too…’_

There it was, door number 7, and it was open, and gold light streamed out, he felt anger bubble up inside him, and he shoved the door wide open and cried out; ‘Oh my god! Would you shut up with the terrible singing?!’

Silence.

The guitar stopped, and Thomas hadn’t realised he was panting. Sat, curled up on his mantle, was a boy- probably about his age, but with a more youthful face, scrawny and beautiful with golden blond hair, guitar on his lap, fingers still poised but not moving. Eyes wide and petrified. ‘Listen-‘ Thomas began, guilt bubbling up inside him

‘No! No, bloody hell, I’m sorry, I was…’ He scrambled to get up, tripping over his own legs, and shoving the guitar down, and he stepped forward, and Thomas noted he had a limp, and a gorgeous accent. Great, he thought to himself, now he was a really awful person. ‘I didn’t realise how loud I was being- I got a bit carried away,’ his cheeks reddened sheepishly. ‘I know I’m not very good yet, but I was…’ he faltered, biting his bottom lip distractingly ‘I’m sorry.’ Thomas nodded, a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. From the lip, and the fright on the boys face, to the sadness over the insult to his music. Thomas hadn’t even really listened- he didn’t know whether it was good or not- but now, seeing the guitar strewn and useless on the floor, he had a terrible feeling he had knocked a new found confidence. ‘

Sorry. I just moved in, I’m just a bit tired. I’m Thomas.’

‘Newt. I uh…I just moved here to. Last week,’

‘From England?’

‘That obvious?’

‘The accent is a bit of a giveaway,’ he murmured, and Newt ducked his head shyly ‘Why are you up this late anyway?’

‘I’m a bit of an insomniac, and the new time zone has really messed me up.’ He rubbed a hand over his elbow, and half smiled ‘I’ll try and let you get some sleep now though, Tommy. Sorry again.’ Thomas nodded, and turned, leaving. He heard the door click behind him as he trudged up the stairs back to his apartment. The lack of music was harrowing, and he went into his dark bedroom, and lay in bed. And still couldn’t sleep.

…

… Two weeks later

…

‘Newt! You ungrateful English idiot! Open this door before I knock it down!’ Thomas frowned at the asian boy slamming at Newt’s door. He hadn’t seen Newt since that night, and as hard as he listened, he could hear no music playing.

‘Leave me alone, Minho!’

Minho rested his head against the door ‘We need you man! We’re performing- Alby’s away, just easy guitar notes, come on, you don’t even have to sing!’

‘I’m busy!’

‘Newt!’

Thomas watched, before the door opened, and Newt was stood there, eyes downcast ‘Fine. But you owe me.’

‘Are you guys performing somewhere?’ he asked, and Newt jumped upon seeing him. Minho only glared accusingly

‘Minho, this is my neighbour Thomas, Tommy, this is my annoying friend Minho.’

‘Uh, nice to meet you,’ Thomas tried, but the black haired boy ignored him, stalking into Newt’s apartment. Newt rolled his eyes, and turned to join him, but Thomas grabbed his shoulder, and Newt turned back in surprised. ‘I didn’t mean…s-stop playing for good, you know? I…’ He gave an embarrassed laugh ‘I never even properly listened to it? Maybe you could again-‘

‘I don’t understand-‘

‘Newt come on!’ Newt turned to Minho’s voice, and shot Thomas an apologetic and confused glance, before sliding away.

It wasn’t too hard to find where they were performing. Thomas had twitter, and with names as rare as those, he found himself sitting in a nice, relatively large pub that was buzzing. He watched the stage early, nursing a small beer. He wasn’t going to get drunk tonight. He was going to listen. When they came on, he had eyes only for Newt. Who stood under the lights with a smile and a gleam as though he were designed to be there. He played with his left hand, and he was good. They were all good. Thomas found himself yelping and cheering with everyone else.

…

…

…

 

‘Something to drink?’ Newt asked, as he and Thomas lounged on the sofa in Newt’s apartment, watching an old film

‘Just water, thanks,’

‘No problem.’

The two of them had become close. With Thomas’ insistence, and stalkerlike tendencies to keep watching wherever the band played, and with meeting each other in the block every day, until Newt had been worn down, and invited Thomas up to his apartment for the first time, and they found they hit it off. ‘Do you write your own music?’

‘Now and then,’

‘Would you play me one?’

‘Ha! No way, Greenie.’

‘Why not?’

Newt was back, and handing him water with a curious expression. He had such a delicate nose, such a beautiful face. Such soft looking lips, Thomas wanted to reach out and… ‘Why do you want to hear one so badly?’

‘Please?’ He asked again, brown eyes burning with intensity ‘Just once. For me?’

Newt gingerly picked up his guitar, and sat on the sofa. He cleared his throat, and began strumming ‘ _In spite of all the danger, in spite of all that may be, ahhh I’ll do anything for you, anything you want me to, if you’ll be true to me. Ahhh in spite of all the heartache that you may cause me, ahhh I’ll do anything for you, anything you want me too, if you’ll be true to me, ahhh. Keep on knocking on your door. In spite of all the danger, in spite of all that may be…’_ He trailed off, a blush staining his cheeks, fingers coming to a stand still.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Thomas croaked. ‘Like really, really amazing.’

Newt shot him a nervous smile ‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’ And then with a surge of courage, he leaned over, and pressed a gentle kiss to Newt’s lips, which parted in soft surprise. When they pulled away, they were both blushing, and grinning like mad. And Newt started strumming again.

**Author's Note:**

> Please Prompt in the comments :)


End file.
